


trigger warnings exist for a reason

by SwAgAmAnDeR



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Depression, M/M, Sadness, Self-Harm, closeted phan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-27
Updated: 2015-07-27
Packaged: 2018-04-11 11:10:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4433246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SwAgAmAnDeR/pseuds/SwAgAmAnDeR
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After getting an accidental bloody nose, Dan remembers how mesmerized he is by his own blood. Sure, he's been self-harm free for years now (with the help of his lovely boyfriend, Phil), but the night that he has dubbed "The Red Wedding: Dan Howell Edition"  changes things.<br/>He figures that he should probably tell Phil how he's feeling and how badly he wants to see red again, but Phil's going on a trip to Germany for a week and Dan doesn't want to bother him so he decides to wait until Phil returns.<br/>That turns out to be a poor decision on Dan's part.</p><p>Warnings for: graphic descriptions of blood, self-harm, and depression. There's also some swearing, alcohol, and mentions of sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	trigger warnings exist for a reason

**Author's Note:**

> Huuuuuge trigger warning for graphic descriptions of self-harm and blood and depression. Seriously, if you could be triggered by these things, then I would proceed with caution - or just skip this fic and proceed with caution to the main phan tag. I want you guys to stay safe. There's also some alcohol and swearing and mentions of sex.
> 
> I bracketed a specific passage that is especially graphic, so please don't feel guilty at all if you skip it. I put a summary of what happened at the end of the bracket. 
> 
> I love you all <3

Dan knew that he had a problem again immediately after the first drop hit the sink.

He had gotten a bloody nose - presumably from the damn dry air that always plagued the winter months. Normally, it wasn't a huge deal, but this time, something was different.

He felt the warm liquid run down from his nose, onto his lips. He reached up to wipe it away, only to have the back of his hand come back stained a light red. He abruptly jumped up from his cuddling position on the couch with Phil, causing his older boyfriend to stare up at him with wide, confused eyes.

"Bloody nose," Dan explained quickly before all but sprinting to the bathroom. The less blood he got on the furniture, the better.

Dan stumbled into the bathroom and haphazardly turned on the lights, awkwardly leaning over the bathroom sink as he scanned the small shelf above the toilet for a small box of tissues.

"Come on..." His eyes flickered around him, "Where are they?..."

_Drip._

Dan halted his search momentarily to glance down at the small bead of blood that fell from his nose. His brown eyes rolled down sluggishly to beige ceramic piece below him until - _oh._

Dan couldn't quite say what it was, but something about the red liquid was so... mesmerizing.

_Drip._

It was indescribably pretty. An opaque, cherry red river flowing from his nose. Not quite the consistency of water, yet not a sludge, either.

It looked so... _pure_.

He'd seen his blood before. The terror and embarrassment that was known as secondary school had made sure of that. But Dan had been clean for years now, with the help of Phil.

_Drip._

Dan stared at his blood in an unbreakable trance as it plopped onto the smooth surface below him. Sometimes it splattered, sometimes it simply fell into a small, neat circle. He couldn't look away. The box of tissues had long since been located out of the corner of Dan's eyes, but he couldn't stop painting the bloody picture below him.

"You doing alright, Dan?" Phil called out to him as he sleepily stumbled out of the lounge, through the hallway, and towards Dan.

Dan frantically reached out for the tissues, snapping out of his trance as if someone had flipped a switch in his brain, "Y-Yeah!"

"Dry weather again?" Phil yawned and rubbed his eyes as he stepped into the bathroom, hair sticking up in weird angles. Dan had always loved how cute Phil looked when he was sleepy; one of his favorite traditions with the older man was their late night cuddle sessions in front of the television. His icy blue eyes began to adjust to the lighting of the bathroom, and they grew from half-lidded to wide with concern as he looked to the sink. "Wow, you sure did bleed a lot,"

"Yeah," Dan gave a sheepish smile as he glanced down at the pool of red beneath him, "Had some trouble finding the tissues,"

"Oh," Phil glanced at his boyfriend with skepticism. The tissues weren't that hard to find. But for whatever reason he didn't push it.

In hindsight, the couple would kind of wish he had.

* * *

 

Dan mostly forgot about the incident, which his mind had lovingly renamed 'The Red Wedding: Dan Howell Edition', for a few weeks.

He and Phil were so busy anyways, it was hard to dwell on it.

Making videos, writing jokes, doing liveshows, tweeting fans, keeping up-to-date with Youtuber drama, organizing trips, trying to stay in the closet. When your entire life was under the watchful eyes of over 4 million teenage girls and boys, it was hard to waste time thinking about trivial things, like how mesmerizing it was for Dan to watch his own blood.

Yeah, Dan probably had a problem, and yeah, Dan's thighs and inner wrists had begun to itch every time he walked past the bathroom now, but he was probably (hopefully) fine. He knew that he should probably talk to Phil about this whole thing, but Phil had been so stressed as of late. He was going to Germany for a week for some YouTube thing, and it had been practically turning his hair grey. Dan was a big boy now, and he would be fine for the week that Phil was gone. Once he got back, Phil could play the therapist role that he had so many times before and then they would cuddle and Phil wouldn't worry about it his entire trip and he wouldn't be stressed out and everything would be fine. Dan just had to wait a measly seven days.

* * *

 

Having had his neck covered with goodbye kisses and his ears filled with promises of daily Skype calls and texts, Dan returned home the night of Phil's departure to their dark and silent flat.

Dan wholeheartedly thought that the eeriest thing he had ever experienced in his adult life was being alone in their shared flat at night. Sure, Dan Howell was a grown-ass man, but something about the whole thing just seemed _not right_ , especially after he and Phil had begun experiencing feelings for each other.

Maybe it was the fact that there were constant reminders of either of them - be it plushies, weird decor, ironic purchases, or anime merch - scattered throughout the flat. It always seemed _wrong_ to be somewhere where Phil was so present, without him actually being there. Add on to that the fact that it was nighttime, and it was all too eerie for him to bear.

But on this specific night that Phil was 30,000 feet in the air heading east while Dan was home alone in their quiet London flat, seeing Phil's quirks all around him just made him kind of sad.

Dan went to bed in Phil's room that night.

* * *

 

It was Day Number Five when Dan jumped off the cliff, metaphorically. His conscious was like an Olympic diver who swan-dived off the tip of his cranium, only to splatter aimlessly on the cold tiles below him.

It was 1:30 in the morning, London-time, and Phil was already asleep in his too-small Munich hotel room.

That was partly the reason Dan was still awake, actually. When Phil goes on trips, Dan always tries to go to sleep earlier than normal, as the later it gets, the more his mind races and the less common sense he has.

Dan had waited up for Phil, only to receive a quick text from Phil at 11:47 p.m. London-time, saying " _srry, meet up went later than expected, n i have to get up early tmrw. cant skype 2night :( i love u, bear <3_".

Truthfully, Dan was a bit disappointed, but he sucked it up and simply replied, " _it's alright, phil. i love you too <3 hopefully we'll be able to skype tomorrow. hope you're having fun :)_".

He had already opened up his laptop and assumed his browsing position on the couch, and when he got Phil's text he decided to just stay there for five more minutes and refresh tumblr one more time.

The next time he looked at the clock, it read 1:30 a.m.

Dan shrugged and went back to scrolling aimlessly through a healthy mixture of memes, text posts, and aesthetics.

Eventually one caught his eye.

_**[Okay guys, this is where it gets especially graphic. If you're bothered by self-harm, please feel free to scroll down until you see the bold-face typing**_ **_again]_**

 

It was of the inside of a pale wrist, the photo taken from the elbow down. On the wrist were five perfectly parallel cuts. Or rather, gashes. They were deeper than any that Dan had ever seen, on himself or anyone else. The blood was such a pretty, deep red color and he stared and stared and stared into those gashes as if they had paralyzed him with some curse. His heart was pumping, and his wrists - his wrists were _burning_. He thought he had experienced rough urges before, but this was a new extreme.

He threw down his laptop and ran into their tiny bathroom, trying hopelessly along the way to shake off the ants that his mind had placed on his wrists. His eyes scanned the shelves, looking for something, _anything_ , to relieve his discomfort. Phil was smart, he always made sure to get rid of any Potentially Harmful Things, especially before big trips. But this time, he had left behind Dan's disposable shaving razor.

A half an hour later, Dan had managed to pry the razor from its plastic shell with bloody fingers and now held it suspended above his still-tingling wrist.

It swooped down like a bird of prey, and came back up satisfied, red blood staining its wicked talons.

The burning in Dan's wrists stopped. After a few crude cuts, Dan stopped the razor, too.

His heartbeat slowed down.

He stared down at the beige ceramic sink, and laughed to himself bitterly. _Looks like another red wedding had happened here_.

He cleaned himself up, hid the razor, and made a mental note to buy a new, identical shaving one before Phil returned.

He floated out to the living room, where his laptop still laid on its side, the horrible picture still on the screen.

He noticed the italicized caption at the bottom of the picture: " _Trigger warning i guess?? haha idk, if you're bothered by this type of thing then you probably shouldn't even be on tumblr, lmao_ ".

Dan immediately reported the image and unfollowed the blog who reblogged it.

He closed out of the browser and walked himself to Phil's room.

His wrists burned in a different way now.

* * *

_**[Okay guys we're in the clear for a while. Quick synopsis of what happened in the portion you may have skipped: Dan came across a very graphic self harm picture on tumblr, which triggered him so greatly that he himself self harmed. He makes a comment on how another Red Wedding has happened. He returns to the sofa to find that the triggering image had an especially rude and nuerotypical caption. He reports the image, unfollows the blog who reblogged it, closes out of tumblr, and goes to bed in Phil's room]** _

Contrary to his YouTube name, Dan was, in fact, on fire.

The moment that he saw Phil's black nest of hair amongst the the other heads in the crowded airport, he was set ablaze.

He felt ashamed of what he had done.

Guilty.

Even though he was wearing a long-sleeved, black jumper (which wasn't unusual for him), he was certain that Phil would notice the flames that licked up from where he had given in to weakness a few days ago.

The cuts didn't really hurt anymore, but he would have liked it better if they did. At least then he'd have a reason for the thick scabs that would turn into faded white scars, constant reminders of his dark and lonely nights.

He had been so _stupid_ , too. If he had cut anywhere else, hiding it from Phil would have been manageable. But there was no way Phil _wouldn't_ notice the scattering of lines on Dan's wrists.

It plagued him so much that he almost came out with it as soon as Phil was in ear shot of him. It would have been so easy to just run up to him, bury his head in Phil's hair, and cry, "Phil, I've self harmed,".

But Phil wore a bright smile on his face and Dan couldn't just go and ruin one of the Wonders of the World, so Dan smiled too, and welcomed his boyfriend home with a strong hug and whispered promises that kisses would come once they were home, away from the public.

Dan slept with Phil in his room that night.

* * *

 

The next clear opportunity that Dan had to come clean was at breakfast the following day.

It was a quiet morning.

They were sat across from each other, eating their respective cereals, admiring each other between bites, bedhead and all.

"Phil, I've self harmed,"

That's what Dan _wanted_ to say.

He imagined Phil taking on the older, responsible, caring, perfect boyfriend role that he always did and comforting Dan like he always did, assuring him that it would all be ok.

But as Phil puffed out his cheeks and crossed his eyes to make Dan laugh, he didn't want to ruin the purity of the moment.

* * *

 

Phil was starting to get suspicious, and Dan knew it.

Dan also knew that Phil did not know what he was suspicious of.

The first few times that Dan called in a rain check on sex and showering together, Phil shrugged it off.

But as time went on, Dan kept being "not in the mood" or "too tired", when Phil could clearly see that he had a boner.

Phil, being Phil, blamed himself for it and Dan hated himself for being so stupid.

"It's not you, Phil, I promise. I promise. I promise," Dan held his boyfriend tightly in his arms one night when he came across him crying alone in his room, afraid that if he let him go he would fly away and never come back.

"Then what is it?" Phil sniffled.

Dan didn't respond.

* * *

 

Their relationship shrank as Dan's monster grew.

His scars had not turned out pale and white, as they had been expected to be, but had instead turned red and angry and jagged.

Maybe it was because Dan never let them rest, picking at the scabs each time a new ones formed.

Dan would be red and angry and jagged if he wasn't ever allowed to sleep.

Oh wait, he already wasn't.

He and Phil slept in different beds nowadays, and insomnia had been a bitch.

Phil's patience with him had been wearing thin.

He knew Dan had a secret, but he didn't know what, and it _killed_ him and Dan knew it but he was too egotistical and petrified to let Phil know that he had relapsed.

So he didn't.

And Phil flew farther away from him with each beat of his wings.

* * *

 

In retrospect, Dan decided that maybe drinking vodka at 1 in the morning hadn't been his best idea ever.

Drunk and depressed, he pulled out his laptop and typed into the Google search bar ' _self ham_ '.

The results were not what he was looking for, so he squinted his eyes and cursed the alcohol and tried again.

' _Serf harm_ '.

Goddamnit.

' _Self harm_ '.

Satisfied, he clicked on the image tab.

His conscious swan-dived off his cranium again, and suddenly he was on his feet, racing to the bathroom. This time, however, he darted past the sink and landed in front of the toilet, where he got down on his knees and retched up a month's worth of pain and self-loathing.

Phil had been awake for a while - Dan had heard him tossing and turning and pacing back and forth in his room for hours now. So Dan shouldn't have been surprised when he heard his (basically ex) boyfriend's concerned voice from the door of the bathroom. But he was, and he jumped.

"Dan? Are you alright?"

Dan let an animalish grunt of surprise before vomiting again.

Phil tentatively stepped forward and massaged his back until he was done.

Dan was crying when he finally finished. Phil looked at him with pity. A month ago, Phil would have been cuddling him, kissing his head, comforting him. Things were different now.

"I-I'm sorry, Phil," Dan sobbed, the vodka slurring his speech.

"It's alright, Dan, we all-"

"No, Phil, not about the throwing up,"

Phil grunted.

"I'm _sorry_ about _everything_ ,"

"You're drunk, Dan," Phil sighed.

Dan sobbed.

"Let's get you to bed," Phil stood up slowly.

"P-Phil-"

"If you want to apologize, you can do so later when you're not drunk on vodka at 1 in the morning," Phil blinked.

"I've relapsed, Phil,"

Phil's Titanic hit the iceberg as he stopped cold in his tracks, "What?"

"I-I've relapsed, Phil, that's why I-I've been acting so distant because I d-didn't want you to find out b-but-," Dan was rambling, his head in his hands.

"When?" Phil's eyes were too wide and his eyebrows were too close, "I-I thought you were doing so good, you seemed so normal, until- until you just, _weren't_ ,"

"W-When you were in Germany," Dan hiccuped, "T-there was a picture on tumblr of someone who slashed their wrists and I saw it and I-I had to- I had to-"

"Shhh," Phil drew figure eights on his back soothingly, "Why didn't you text me?"

"You were asleep," Dan was shaking as if the temperature in the bathroom was much colder than it actually was. The alcohol, the shock, the depression, and Phil's sudden change of heart probably weren't doing wonders for his mental health. Phil needed to calm him down.

"I-I didn't want to dis-sappoint you, Phil,"

"Shh," Phil whispered calmly, "Can I see them? The scars?"

Dan shakily held out his arm and pulled back his sleeve for Phil to see the rugged, red stanzas of Dan's saddest poem. Phil kissed each of them. Dan's body shook with sobs.

"I hate it when you do this," Phil sighed sadly, looking up to meet Dan's sad brown eyes, "But I hate it even more when you're scared to tell me about it,"

Dan's lip wobbled as he looked up at him. Somewhere through his drunken haze, a coherent part of his mind managed to faintly realize that this was something that should have happened much sooner.

"Can you walk?" Phil's voice was still full of concern, "We should get some sleep,"

Dan nodded, barely moving.

Phil carefully hoisted his delicate boyfriend off the cold, tile floor and took his hand.

Dan teetered and tottered as if he were on a boat. Phil figured that metaphorically, he was, and he was going through a particularly rough storm at the moment.

Phil guided Dan to his room, and Dan fell onto the nearly unfamiliar bright green and blue sheets as if they were his own.

Phil figured that they kinda were.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all.  
> So, firstly I'd just like to say that this was the riskiest fic I've ever posted. It was written strictly between the hours of 1 and 3 in the morning, when the voices in my head are particularly relentless. I originally meant for this to be a short little one-shot of the first part, but then it grew and grew and grew and I don't even know how it happened.  
> I debated even posting this because I've never written something so graphic and raw, and the last thing that I want to do is trigger someone.  
> By the way, "The Red Wedding" is a reference to one of the most notoriously bloody Game of Thrones episodes.
> 
> If any of you guys want to talk about *anything*, please drop me a message some time. My tumblr is romaticphantasies.tumblr.com.
> 
> I love y'all <3 feedback and comments are greatlyy appreciated.


End file.
